Hansa (wolf)
Hansa is a domesticated cave wolf belonging to Hazel Wildow. Hansa is the littermate of Bross. Appearance and Character Hansa is a five-year-old "ebon-wolf", with shaggy sable fur, eyes that share the same darkness, and a great mop of a tail. He is given to Hazel when she is eighteen and at Worrenwall. He receives his name from Hazel Wildow after her older brother in remembrance of him. Hazel notes how Hansa's fur is as black as her late brother's hair. Hansa's pupils can also look indistinguishable between the rest of his eyes in a certain light. Hansa is typically rather guarded and sentinel, often looking around new areas curiously. Hansa is a heavy sleeper and prefers to sleep in shadows to take advantage of his pelt and stay hidden. Hansa never sleeps when Hazel is, always guarding the vicinity when she rests. Hansa is capable of being ferocious and is fearless in battle unless outnumbered. When resting in a safe or bitterly cold area, Hansa commonly nestles against Hazel to keep her warm. Hansa is small for his age, reaching up to Hazel's waist. Hansa has a close bond with Hazel, and enjoys running circles around her as a game and is fond of playing with leaves and jumping around in dense snow. Quotes "The black one lifted its snout at her and gave a little grunt. It perked up its ears and gawked with glinting gleam in its honest eyes that shared the darkness of its hide. Bross was this one's littermate, Hazel realised, though the sable dog shared little of its sibling's traits." - Hazel meeting Hansa for the first time. - "The hound is without name." The kennelmaster stated, "Name him as you wish, and he'll stick at your side." There was no other thought to it. "Hansa." The dove duchess declared with sadness in her voice, "After the late duke himself." - Hazel names Hansa. - "The wolfdog is just as Hansa was. Hazel wondered if by some chance she was witnessing her late brother on four legs and his thick sable hair and cloaks cocooned around him into pelt. She had been shown so much by the three witches in their hovel, what was one more revelation? Seeing the shaggy-haired beast strut about made her realise just how much she pined for her brother... though the witches say it matters little. That love for her brother was as human as she was, there was no other truth to know, the very thought made Hazel grind her teeth. Her love for him was what guided her hand, the spring for all her sorrows, the very thing people regarded as her only redeeming trait. She failed them, she failed her kin, she failed ''him, ''and now the memories of Mistmoore in a flickering beacon of flame was only a bad memory if not one that still chilled her to the bone. The north was Hansa's touch, his soft lips on hers in the summer evenings as the castle slept, her parent's legacy made for generations of Wildows to come. All gone... and for what? ''Who am I now?" ''- Hazel's guilt over losing Hansa and her family.